


Watching Misha Sleep

by mymishaandjensenfic (ljunattainable)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, could be seen as dub-con as Misha's unaware, voyeur Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/mymishaandjensenfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When did you… “ Jensen starts awkwardly.<br/>“When did I find out you were perving on me sleeping?” Misha asks, hot breath gusting across Jensen’s face and sending a shiver across his skin.<br/>“Yeah. That.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Misha Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> A warning of sorts: Jensen watches and fantasizes but doesn't touch, but it could definitely be seen as dub con. However, it all works out in the end.

\--xxx—

Jensen looks up from the message on his phone when he asks a question and he gets no response from the man sitting in the chair next to him. His mouth creases in a small smile of fond amusement when he sees Misha has dozed off, and he would turn back to his phone except that he’s so struck by the pure innocence of Misha’s sleeping face that it catches his attention, and he finds himself staring instead.

Misha’s so quiet, still, and relaxed. His closed eyes leave a soft line of long black lashes against his lower lids. The laughter lines across his nose and around his eyes are smoothed out and his mouth is loose, the tiniest sliver of white teeth showing between parted lips, pink and wet as if licking his lips was the last thing Misha did before his eyes closed and he slipped into sleep. Jensen can even see the downy blond hair on Misha’s cheeks that normally he’d miss because Misha’s face will never stay still long enough for Jensen to focus on it, and believe him, he’s tried.

Jensen’s eye follows the curl of Misha’s ear, the line of his jaw, the arc of his neck as it disappears into Castiel’s shirt, a small triangle of flesh teasing him before the tie swallows it up. 

Jensen’s not ignorant of the fact that his feelings for Misha go beyond the platonic, and although Jensen suspects that it’s a little perverted to watch Misha sleep like this, he finds he can’t stop.

\--xxx—

Jensen volunteers to call Misha from his trailer for the next scene. He needs to dump his jacket anyway because the day has got really stifling hot. Ridiculous for Vancouver in September. He only gives a perfunctory knock before opening Misha’s trailer door and taking the step up to put his head in the gap. Misha is asleep on the small couch, shirtless but wearing Cas’s pants, bare feet sticking out of the bottom.

Jensen walks in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He’s going to wake Misha but he allows himself a minute to watch his recumbent figure, to admire the perfectly sculpted flow of lean muscle, smooth and angular; the dusky pink nipples soft in the heat, a hint of a well-formed hip bone jutting from the top of Castiel’s pants, where they sit lower than normal because Misha’s taken the belt off. 

Jensen chooses not to speak to wake Misha but instead to lay a hand lightly gripping his shoulder, noting how it cups neatly in his palm, warm and smooth and soft. He doesn’t shake Misha’s shoulder, but strokes his hand over it enjoying the feel of the silky skin.

Misha smiles when he opens his eyes, “Ackles,” and stretches like a cat, his arms going over his head and his back arching to relieve the tension in his spine. Jensen resists the urge to run his fingers down the taut chest arching up to meet him and realizes he’s totally screwed.

\--xxx—

Misha’s in Jensen’s guest room, just across the hall. Ten footsteps from Jensen’s room. Twenty from Jensen’s bed to Misha’s bed. 

Jensen has had just a little too much to drink. He feels the buzz and his head spins in a way that tells him he’s going to have a headache in the morning. Misha had the same to drink as Jensen so he couldn’t drive home, and he’s probably feeling a little rough too. Jensen thinks he should check on him, just in case. Jensen allows himself little indulgences when he’s drunk. 

The hems of his pajama bottoms scuff along the carpet as he pads out of his bedroom and across the hallway, making little shh-ing noises. He hitches them up a little in case he wakes Misha. The door to the guest room is slightly ajar, an inch at most and Jensen places one eye to the gap revealing an indistinct lump on the bed, unmoving. 

Jensen opens the door a little further, so that light pools into the room from the hallway, just checking, he tells himself, that Misha’s settled and fine and comfortable. Nothing at all to do with the fact that he’s found a new hobby in watching Misha sleep.

Misha’s lying on his front, his head turned away from Jensen. He must have fallen asleep straight from the shower. He’s on the bed, not in it, one of Jensen’s fluffy white towels draped loosely around his waist, covering his ass where it meets his lower back, legs loose and splayed, bare from mid-thigh down. Misha’s back is slender down to an obvious waist that curves in before curving out again at his hips. His shoulder blades are angular under strong, lean muscle. There are small remnants of scars from his bike accident a few years ago, barely there silver lines that somehow add to, rather than detract from, the perfectly proportioned shapes. 

Misha’s strong runner’s thighs stretch out under the towel, one leg bent, one straight, and Jensen follows the line as far as Misha’s knees where his legs disappear into shadow, the light from the hall not quite reaching that far into the room. Jensen decides he’d quite like to run his tongue over the soft skin at the back of Misha’s knee.

Misha stirs on the bed and Jensen holds his breath, ready with his excuses, but Misha just starts to roll over then stops, curling onto his side, his back still facing Jensen; the towel slips revealing the perfect curve of Misha’s tanned ass and an ass crack that Jensen desperately wants to tease with tongue or a lube-slick finger or… 

Jensen breathes in sharply, and he quickly and silently shuts the door on Misha, returning to his own room where he pulls roughly at his erection, his imagination happily supplying re-run after re-run of Misha’s ass opening up to Jensen’s fingers.

\--xxx—

Jensen starts to worry that he might be obsessed with Misha sleeping.

They all go to the beach on their day off, a private strip of sand attached to a friend’s house where they can bathe. Misha falls asleep on his back on a towel next to Jensen while Jared swims in the surf. Jensen admires the clear tanned skin laid out close beside him, finds himself focusing on the freckle by Misha’s right nipple and wonders what it tastes like.

#

Misha sleeps on the plane in the seat next to Jensen, head lolling to one side on the big business class seat so that he’s facing Jensen. Jensen watches fascinated the whole trip as Misha’s eyes flicker under his eyelids as he dreams.

#

They both fall asleep in the back seat of the car on the way back from an outdoor shoot. Jensen wakes up to Misha’s head on his shoulder, Misha’s hair soft against his cheek. Jensen can’t watch Misha sleep at this angle but he can hear him breathing and feel his warmth, and that works too.

#

The next time Misha spends the night unexpectedly in Jensen’s spare room, Jensen sits by his bed for an hour. Misha’s mostly naked under the sheets and Jensen wants to crawl in with him and gather him up and listen to him breathing and feel his warmth.

#

When Jensen catches Misha having a nap in his trailer in nothing but white boxers Jensen stares very hard for about fifteen minutes trying to see anything other than a vague outline of Misha’s dick. He doesn’t succeed but it still fuels his jerk-off fantasies for a whole week.

He should probably do something about this – he should stop, putting it bluntly, because Jensen’s not stupid & he knows it’s wrong - but if this is all he can have with Misha, Jensen doesn’t want to give it up.

\--xxx—

On movie night at Misha’s, Jensen is the one falling asleep. When he wakes up on Misha’s couch, the TV is off, he’s covered with a sheet which he shuffles out of quickly because it’s hella hot in the heated apartment tonight, and there’s a note on the coffee table telling him the spare room’s made up if he wants it. He glances at the time, 2:00am, and he decides he wants it.

Rubbing a hand over his face he makes his way towards the bedrooms. Both bedroom doors are open and he goes into the spare room, strips to boxers and t-shirt then, predictably, makes his way to Misha’s bedroom door.

Misha’s asleep, lying on his side facing Jensen, a single sheet pushed down and pooling, ruffled, at his waist. He’s not wearing a shirt and there’s moonlight peeking through the blinds, just enough to cast a silver sheen over Misha’s skin. Misha’s dark hair contrasts sharply against the cream pillowcase and the moonlight makes his face look pale even though he’s the more tanned of them both.

Jensen settles against the doorframe to watch.

He watches the way Misha’s chest moves slowly and evenly in and out as he breathes. He watches how the shadows cross over Misha’s skin and muscle as the moon moves across the night sky. He watches as Misha’s eyelashes flutter as he dreams. He watches as Misha’s fingers twitch as they try to grab something that isn’t there. 

When Misha’s dream makes him shift restlessly and twist his face into a grimace, Jensen wants to do more than watch. He wants to run a soothing hand over Misha and scare away the nightmares that dare to plague him. When Misha rolls onto his back and his dick is obvious and clearly outlined under the sheet where it rests on his thigh, and a line of dark curly pubic hair shows above the hem of the sheet, Jensen definitely wants to do more than watch. He wants to pull the sheet down, take Misha’s dick in his hand and stroke him until he’s hard and coming all over his stomach. 

Jensen reaches down to palm his growing erection and Misha shifts on the bed in his sleep, stretching his arms out, bunching his hands into fists, and pushing the sheets down so that Jensen can see the base of his dick. Shit. Jensen can’t do this anymore. He can’t watch and not touch anymore. For all that he doesn’t want to give it up, for his own sanity, not to mention Misha’s privacy, he has to. 

He turns and hurries back to his own room and allows himself one last jerk-off fantasy of Misha panting under him as Jensen swallows him down while fingering his ass. 

\--xxx—

After that he goes cold turkey. He doesn’t avoid Misha when he’s awake but he won’t risk seeing him when he’s asleep. He won’t go to Misha’s trailer or to his home. Misha’s not invited to his apartment. He catches different flights. He sits in the front on car journeys to and from location even though it pisses Jared off when he has to squeeze his long legs into the back seat. He doesn’t jerk off for fear of fantasies of Misha. 

He’s getting depressed and more than a little frustrated, and Misha looks constantly upset because no doubt he’s wondering what he’s done wrong, and Jensen doesn’t know what to tell him. He can hardly tell him the truth. 

Misha starts hanging out with Jared, Richard, Curtis – whoever’s on set that’s not Jensen. Jensen can’t exactly blame him.

Jensen goes to his trailer, curls up on the bed into a ball of frustrated angst and falls asleep. When he wakes up Misha’s sitting on the edge of the bed staring at him.

“Creepy, man,” he murmurs, rubbing the heel of his hand over one sleepy eye while internally his heart is doing somersaults and his stomach has enough butterflies to rival an amazon rainforest as he wonders what the fuck is going on.

“You can talk,” Misha says, and Jensen wonders what to read into that other than the obvious. “This isn’t working for me Jensen, the whole not seeing each other thing. How’s it working for you?”

Jensen flounders for a moment torn between the two extremes of trying to bluster his way out and pretend he doesn’t know what Misha’s talking about or rolling Misha on to his back and kissing him senseless. He settles for shuffling up to lean back against the headboard, adjusting the pillows behind him while he buys time. 

Eventually he admits, “Not good.”

“Then what are we going to do about it?” Misha asks, tilting his head sadly to one side like a lost puppy. When Jensen doesn’t say anything, he goes on. “You could go back to watching me sleep I guess but I gotta say that was getting kind of frustrating. Only so many times a person can jerk off imagining your best friend watching you. Just saying.”

Jensen startles, clears his throat involuntarily and is fairly sure he’s starting to blush.

“Um,” he says intelligently.

“Well, if you don’t have any ideas of your own to fix this, then maybe I should come over there and help out?” Misha suggests with a suggestive twinkle in his eye. Jensen may take a few seconds to parse that before he nods, starting to smile. Misha smiles back. By the time Misha’s crawled up the bed to press his lips against Jensen’s they’re both grinning like idiots.

“When did you… “ Jensen starts awkwardly. 

“When did I find out you were perving on me sleeping?” Misha asks, hot breath gusting across Jensen’s face and sending a shiver across his skin. 

“Yeah. That.”

“Remember that night in your apartment when we were a little bit too drunk and I fell asleep on the bed after my shower?”

“Seriously?” Jensen says leaning back to see if Misha’s joking but of course how could he be. “That was ages ago… and since then… oh, God I… ,” Jensen moans dropping his face into his hands as he thinks of all the times he’s stared at Misha sleeping and jerked off at the thought of Misha’s various body parts. His head jerks up and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Did you drop the towel on purpose?”

Misha laughs out loud and kisses the bolt of Jensen’s jaw, then the side of his neck, then the crook where Jensen’s neck meets his shoulder and Jensen moans in a completely different way. Misha’s lips are soft and caressing and the tongue Misha dips out between his lips is wet and hot in a way that gives Jensen a full body shudder.

“You like that, huh?” Misha asks and it’s so quiet Jensen’s not sure if he hears him say it or simply feels it in his breath.

“Mish,” he says, desperate to say something before this goes any further, “you need to know - me watching you, it wasn’t all sex.”

“Oh?” Misha murmurs, in a way that implies he’s not really paying attention as he continues to pepper kisses up and down Jensen’s neck. Jensen lifts a hand to stroke through Misha’s hair and Misha pushes into it groaning in pleasure.

“I’m kinda fond of you is what I’m trying to say,” Jensen says in exasperation. The little shit could at least pay attention when Jensen’s pouring his heart out.

“You’re ‘kinda fond’ of me?” Misha says, pulling away and staring at Jensen in what is very likely disbelief. “What an endorsement,” he adds sarcastically. “Well, I’m ‘kinda fond’ of you too.”

“Dick,” Jensen mutters under his breath, but he’s pretty sure Misha’s sarcasm is one of the reasons he fell in love with him. “C’mere,” he says, tugging on Misha’s head and pulling him back in close. Misha nips his neck.

“Ow!” He grins happily. “Oh, I am so going to get you back for that,” he says, putting his weight into a maneuver that has Misha flat on his back on the bed with Jensen straddling his thighs within two seconds flat. He grabs Misha’s wrists and holds his hands down on the bed, over his head. He’s not entirely sure how he got from unrequited misery to this in the time it took to have a nap but he’s absolutely not complaining. He leans in close, presses his mouth against Misha’s, and puts a lot of effort into showing Misha what ‘kinda fond’ actually means.

When he comes up for air, Misha scrabbles desperately at Jensen’s t-shirt and Jensen helps him pull it off. Once started they don’t stop - pulling at each other’s clothes, undoing, unzipping, tugging, stretching, throwing haphazardly on the floor until they’re both naked, lying side by side on the bed with Jensen suddenly feeling a little self-conscious until he reaches out with the flat of his hand and starts stroking up and down Misha’s arm, his side, his chest, his back, his ass. 

Misha chuckles. “You’ve wanted to do that for how long exactly?”

“Too fricking long,” Jensen says, staring in wonder. “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Me neither. I thought you’d never have the nerve.”

“I didn’t have the nerve,” Jensen points out.

Misha smiles. “True.”

“You want to know what my sex fantasies are?” Jensen asks with a mischievous brush of his hand over Misha’s nipple. He has the satisfaction of feeling it harden to a tight little bud under his palm.

“Are they kinky and weird?” Misha asks. Jensen purses his lips apologetically, wondering if the reality is going to disappoint Misha who, if reputation is anything to go by has a lot more sexual experience than Jensen. 

“Not really, no.”

Misha leans forward and whispers in Jensen’s ear. “Good. Show me.” 

Jensen reaches out to brush his fingers lightly up the length of Misha’s dick, obviously catching him by surprise. Misha shuts his eyes, tilts his head back and groans. Jensen leans in and kisses his neck. 

“Oh, I’ll show you alright,” he mumbles between kisses against heated skin, Misha’s stubble rough against his lips, and because ninety percent of his fantasies involve his fingers in Misha’s ass, he licks his fingers making them literally drip with saliva, and watches Misha’s face, keen and anticipatory, as Jensen sits up and settles himself between Misha’s legs, forcing them apart to give him room. 

He strokes through the coarse tangle of Misha’s pubic hair then runs his slippery fingers across Misha’s balls, unable to resist lifting them to feel the weight and size in his hand (and he’s not complaining), before moving down to the cleft in Misha’s ass. Misha lifts his knees in blatant invitation, and Jensen eases one finger in just past the tight muscle of Misha’s sphincter. And it is tight, like Misha’s never done this or not for a long time at least, something that Jensen finds incredibly hot even though he’s never had a virgin fetish. Misha clenches involuntarily around his finger. Maybe there are some things Jensen can show Misha on the sex front after all.

“Relax, babe,” Jensen says not entirely sure how he can string two words together coherently.

“Babe?” Misha gasps, “Seriously?”

Jensen eases his finger slowly all the way in to Misha’s heat. “You got a problem with that?” he asks in a hoarse whisper, curling his finger with expertise born of experience to rub up against Misha’s prostate. It probably still burns a bit but Jensen figures the prostate exam’s going to help compensate for that one hell of a lot.

“God no. You can call me whatever you like if you keep doing that,” Misha says. He squeezes his eyes shut and screws up his face in an expression that Jensen feels damned proud to have put there. Jensen prods again at Misha’s prostate. 

“Oh, fuck,” Misha cries out so loud that Jensen clamps a hand over his mouth. 

“On set,” he hisses, lifting his hand tentatively when Misha falls silent.

“Then stop fucking doing that because if you keep fucking doing that I’m going to fucking scream,” Misha says opening his eyes and glaring at Jensen with comical indignity that has Jensen dropping his face to Misha’s belly to bury his laughter. He loves this man so much he has no idea how to tell him.

“While you’re down there,” Misha says. 

“Don’t get pushy.” Jensen eases his finger deep into Misha’s ass again, the tip crooked. He holds his hand tight against Misha’s mouth as Misha screams into it. “Y’know my fantasies didn’t come with anywhere near this much snark,” Jensen comments.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Misha says in not entirely his normal voice, “shall I just lie here and take it like a man?”

“Thanks for making my point for me.” Jensen slips in a second finger. Misha shuts his eyes again and throws his head back and he moans like an expensive whore. Jensen pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of the heat of Misha’s body and he really wishes he had some lube so he could give Misha the full Jensen treatment because saliva’s not going to show off his skills as much but it’ll have to do because there’s no way he’s taking his fingers out any time soon, lube or no lube. He works up some saliva in his mouth and dribbles it between his teeth into Misha’s ass crack and works the new saliva in with his fingers. Misha twists and squirms under him as if he’s trying to force Jensen even further into him but unfortunately there isn’t any further to go.

“Don’t worry, babe, there’s more.”

Fingers still working slowly teasing in and out, he leans down to fulfil another fantasy and taste the freckle on Misha’s chest. He nibbles gently at both nipples, misses the pleasure of feeling them harden in his mouth because they’re already hard little buds that he can flick with the tip of his tongue to elicit groans of pleasure and more squirming from Misha. He rubs his face in the hard planes of Misha’s belly and nuzzles his nose into the hair at Misha’s groin, Misha’s dick rubbing up against his cheek and leaving a sticky residue of pre-cum.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, running his tongue up the length of Misha’s dick from base to tip, flattening his tongue against the head then taking just the head into his mouth and sucking on it like a lollipop, lots of tongue, lots of saliva, and lots of suction.

Misha groans loudly and clenches so hard around the fingers in his ass that Jensen’s dick gives a huge jerk of excitement and Jensen seriously thinks for one very frightening moment that he’s going to completely lose it, blow his load, embarrass himself completely by coming untouched before he’s really got going. He shuts his eyes and squeezes them tight.

He’s temporarily successful but just in case he can’t hold it back for long, he decides to speed things up and he leans forward and Misha’s dick slides deep into his mouth accompanied by a loud screech of “Oh my God,” and Jensen briefly hopes Misha locked the door when he came into the trailer because they’re definitely going to be attracting some attention here.

Misha’s pre-cum sits tangy and sour on the back of Jensen’s tongue and it’s not a taste he’s ever particularly liked but he doesn’t actively dislike it either and he starts up an up and down rhythm a porn star would be proud of.

Misha tugs at his hair, moans of, “oh, God, Jensen,” spilling repeatedly out of his mouth and the sounds Misha makes are so much better than his fantasies where he didn’t know if Misha would be loud or quiet in bed and so he was mostly quiet. But loud is better. Loud and panting and writhing like it’s so good he can’t bear to be quiet and still, a screwed up look of concentration on his face as if he’s determined to feel every single sensation amplified. 

Misha grasps both sides of Jensen’s head with his hands, just leaving them there as if he’s not sure what to do with them while Jensen bobs up and down and reaching for his own dick with his spare hand, Jensen starts stroking, long pulls and a twist at the top. He has the heat of Misha’s ass around his fingers, heat of his own dick in his other hand, and the heat of Misha’s dick in his mouth and it’s just too much. Pins and needles form in his thighs as heat coils in his spine and he’s spurting spunk all over Misha’s balls and thigh before he can do anything about it. He’s peering up Misha’s chest through his eyelashes, watching Misha’s face, and Misha’s eyes snap open as the first splash hits him and he looks at Jensen as he comes with rapt attention which is so fricking hot that Jensen groans loudly around Misha’s dick. 

When Jensen’s too sensitive to handle himself any longer, he eases his fingers out of Misha’s ass and with both hands he reaches under Misha, taking one impressively muscular ass cheek in each hand, and pulls him up, forcing Misha’s dick deeper into his mouth. He gags a little as the head of Misha’s dick hits the back of his throat but then he remembers how to swallow and the top few inches of Misha’s dick go into the tightness of his throat.

“Fuck, Jensen,” Misha moans, the muscles of his ass clenching tight in Jensen’s palms. Jensen lets the head of Misha’s dick slip out of his throat, then swallows him again. “Oh God,” Misha yells even louder than before but Jensen doesn’t have a spare hand to shut him up, and he’s no longer sure he wants to. Jensen slips Misha’s dick out into his mouth again, runs his tongue around the head then swallows again. Misha’s dick goes impossibly harder and his whole body tenses up. He gives a long drawn out moan as he comes down Jensen’s throat. Misha’s dick is pulsing in his mouth and Jensen pushes his tongue up against the length of it even as Misha squirms to get away.

“Too much, too much,” he moans, as Jensen lifts his head and lets Misha’s dick slide out past his lips, trailing come behind it. Jensen licks his lips. Misha’s still moaning with his eyes closed tight as his dick gives a few last twitches on his stomach. 

Jensen slides his hands up Misha’s flanks, then either side of him onto the bed as he crawls up to join him and lie alongside. He kisses Misha’s cheek and Misha opens a languid eye.

“You have good fantasies,” Misha says slurring his words slightly as he brings one hand up to take Jensen’s.

“Yeah, I do.” Jensen kisses Misha again and glances at the clock. “We’ve got a couple of hours. Why don’t you go to sleep for a bit?”

Misha smiles. “Will you watch me?”

“Yeah,” Jensen smiles back.

Misha closes his eyes. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> The things I'll do to avoid editing my TFWbigbang!


End file.
